A bold and intriguing novel about the woman who was William Shakespeare's secret wife from New York Times bestselling author Karen Harper. As historical records show, Anne Whateley of Temple Grafton was betrothed to William Shakespeare just days before he was forced to wed the pregnant Anne Hathaway. Here, Anne Whateley takes up her pen to tell the intimate story of her daring life with Will. Obliged to acknowledge Will's publicly sanctioned marriage, Anne Whateley nevertheless follows him from rural Stratford-Upon-Avon to teeming London, where they honor their secret union, the coming together of two passionate souls. Persecution and plague, insurrection and inferno, friends and foes all play parts in Anne's lively tale. Spanning half a century of Elizabethan and Jacobean history, and sweeping from the lowest reaches of society to the royal court, this richly textured novel tells the real story of Shakespeare in love. Praise for the Historical Novels of Karen Harper   “As good as the best of Philippa Gregory.”— Library Journal   “An excellent read...will, without a doubt, become a classic of Tudor-era historical fiction.”—Writing the Renaissance   “Intoxicating...a romantic roller coaster rich with vivid details.”— Women’s Day   “The book is vivid, believable and the characters are so alive…You’ll read it cover to cover in a weekend and then order more Karen Harper books!”—theanneboleynfiles.com   “A page-turner, a fascinating summation of the intriguing life and times of Elizabeth I, from Henry VIII’s pursuit of Anne Boleyn and his divorce of Catherine of Aragon, through the death of Edward VI and Elizabeth's coronation.”—Read All Day Karen Harper was a New York Times  and USA Today  bestselling author whose novels, both historical and contemporary, have been published worldwide. Prologue LONDON, FEBRUARY 10, 1601 When I opened my door at mid-morn and saw the strange boy, Ishould have known something was wrong. I'd been on edge for threedays, not only because of the aborted rebellion against the queen, butbecause Will and I were at such odds over it—and over our ownrelationship. "You be Mistress Anne Whateley?" My stomach knotted. The boy was no street urchin but was wellattired and sported a clean face and hands. "Who wants to know?" Iasked as he extended something to me. He must have a missive sayingsomeone was ill. Or dead. Or, God save us, arrested. "'Tis a tie from a fine pair of sleeves meant for you with othergarments too, once adorning Her Majesty's person," he recited ina high, singsong voice as he placed a willow-green velvet ribbonlaced with gold thread in my hand. In faith, it was beautiful workmanship. "Didn't want me carrying all that through the streets," he added. "'Tis all waiting for you at the Great Wardrobe nearby." "I know where that is, lad, but have you not mistook me foranother? I have naught to do with the queen's wardrobe." "Three figured brocade gowns, two fine sleeves with points andribbon ties, a butterfly ruff and velvet cloak for the Lord Chamberlain'splayers to use at the Globe Theatre. Since they be busy today, Iam to fetch you to receive the garb." Of late certain nobles had given me donated garments to pass onto Will's fellows. I'd done many things for the players behind thescenes, as they put it. I'd once helped with costumes, and that at courttoo. In the disastrous performance but three days ago, I'd held thebook and prompted the players. I'd copied rolls for Will and his fellowsas well as taken his dictation. Many knew I had helped to providethe fine cushions that padded the hard wooden seats beneaththe bums of earls and countesses who graced the expensive galleryseats at the Globe. So mayhap the word was out that I was the Jack—or Jill—of all trades at the Globe. Yet things from the queen's wardrobe? It was said she had morethan two thousand gowns, so I supposed she could spare a few. TheShakespeare and Burbage company had performed before the courtboth at Whitehall and Richmond, but after the catastrophe of theEssex Rebellion, three days ago, Her Grace was donating personalpieces to them? Surely, she had heard that they had staged Will's Richard II , a play some whispered had intentionally incited the rebellionagainst her throne. I'd told Will—another of our arguments—that promoting thattragedy at that time could be not only foolhardy but fatal, so thankthe good Lord the Virgin Queen valued her favorite plays and players.The promised garments must be an olive branch extended tothem. At least this would prove to Will once and for all somethingelse I'd argued for years. Elizabeth Tudor was a magnanimousmonarch, not one who should be dethroned or dispatched beforeGod Himself took the sixty-seven-year-old ruler from this life."One moment," I told the boy. "I must fetch my cloak, for thewind blows chill." And blows ill , I thought, as I put away the pages of As You Like It ,so-called a comedy, for it was larded with serious stuff. Will and